Of Bubble Baths and Sodomy

Okay, so this post is either going to get me a slew of new followers (for both the wrong and right reasons) or else lose me the delightful baker’s two-dozen (that would be 26) I currently have. The truth is, I have been pretty much devoid of any inspiration the past few days. It started with a far-worse-than-usual bout of insomnia (and since I sleep about three hours on a good night, that’s really saying something), followed by a desperate attempt at pharmaceutical intervention (a.k.a. Advil PM), followed by disrupted sleep patterns for the better part of three days. My mojo is missing, and I’ve no idea what to write about.

Today is National Bubble Bath Day. Fascinating? Hardly so. I could pontificate about the scientific properties of the bubble. Why bubbles fascinate child and grownup alike. Or the differences between those of us who cannot live without our daily bath and those who feel like they’re soaking in their own human soup (the main difference being that the former feel dirty when they don’t soak and the latter feel dirty when they do… I’ve even known some people who shower after they bathe; my solution is to make sure I have a two-bath apartment/home so that I don’t have to share my stew pot!). But cleanliness being next to Godliness aside, I’d rather delve into the sinful side of scripture.

Thus, courtesy of the lovely Tiffany Reisz (not coincidentally, author of The Original Sinners erotic/BDSM romance series), I’ve decided to write about one of our favorite (but not mutually enjoyed… yet!) topics: sodomy.

My lack of inspiration probably has an inverse relationship to the amount of sodomy I get these days (which is, well, none whatsoever). Although as Tiffany cleverly pointed out to me this evening, there’s both mental and physical sodomy, so perhaps my lack of inspiration is directly proportionate to the mental ass fucking I’ve been taking of late. Call it first of year blues (I almost always hit the new year with a sense of dread about my finances… the clock to April 15 is ticking like Captain Hook’s crocodile) or a general malaise, but I feel like I’m running up against roadblocks at every turn. And then slamming my head into them with the thought that the wall will crumble and I’ll continue on my way. Sadly, I just walk away with an excruciating headache.

I’ve gradually come to accept that I no longer perceive the world in the way I was raised and conditioned to view it. It’s not that everyone else is wrong, it’s that we’re just all so damn unhappy. I truly believe we go out of our way to circumvent or undermine our own happiness. When there isn’t enough drama, we create some. It’s like the only part of the Matrix 2 that was any good: the part when the maker talks about how humans kept fucking up the utopia that was created for them; that the only reality humans can accept is one rife with conflict or grief.

With regards to the more literal form of sodomy, I’m in a bit of a drought, I must admit. I’ve been trying to move away from NSA relations because the trust required for a great kink relationship requires more than “just sex.” However, the more time I spend with men, the less I understand them (did I already write that people seem hell bent and determined to get in the way of their own happiness?).

I do know, however, that I perform at peak levels (pun intended) creatively speaking, when I’ve been appropriately stimulated, and figuring out how to do that on my own is a real challenge for me. I guess kicking my own ass isn’t nearly as motivating as, well, someone else back there getting busy.

But the work waits, and I need to contribute something to the blogosphere. No disrespect intended.

Incidentally, I could really use an intern. Benefits include learning from a working writer, access to great craft beer, WordPress tutorials, and, well, you never know.